


Lazarus

by HyacinthusAmongUs



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Epilogue, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Poetic Sex, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyacinthusAmongUs/pseuds/HyacinthusAmongUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nico is good at many things, and one of them is making Jason see stars.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your support on Slam, as promised, here it is, the epilogue!

Nico grabs the mic holding it close with the kind of smirk Jason wants to see every day. His hands curl around the stand, pushing out his scared arms with lines that curl up and around like tribal bands. When he whispers out "Lazarus", the title of his new piece, it comes out like a cloud of smoke, and Jason leans forward to hear the poem better.

" _I don't want to be a memoir,_  
 _My name should not become a wince of sympathy._    
 _I hate it when people love my scars._    
 _When the boy on the subway calls me hardcore,_  
 _I want to show him pictures of the crime scene,_    
 _Pictures of my life before,_    
 _And I know it's not his fault,_    
 _But goddamn, sometimes I feel broken._  
 _I feel like I've become a folklore,_  
 _But these are not my myths._  
 _My epics live in dark places,_  
 _Where hands and teeth and tongue and flesh and touch,_  
 _Come together and melt so slow,_  
 _My touch marks,_  
 _My touch heats,_  
 _My touch is slow, but always sure._    
 _Sometimes, I wish my touch was fire,_  
 _So everything around me turned to ash and this fire wasn't locked inside,_  
 _So that there was no way to overlook this fire,_  
 _So no one could ignore this fire burning in me,_  
 _How I just burn._    
 _But then, I'd never be able to touch you,_  
 _To have you melt in my hands,_  
 _To have you cool this inferno,_  
 _And I'd sooner live in this silent flame,_  
 _Than turn you into ash._    
 _Than hurt you._  
 _I am of Lazarus, the great fable,_  
 _And from Death, I rise like dawn._  
 _But to lose you,_  
 _To lose your ice water touch,_  
 _That would be the true Death of me._ "

It's angry and dark and sexy, and every word bleeds with Nico's personality. He says the last lines directly to Jason, and it's with this honesty that knocks the detective back a step. It's like the entire room is empty, except for the two of them. It's the kind of intensity that Jason's come to expect from his lover, but one he'll never get used to. The poet waits out the applause with this little smile, looking over the crowd with that same giddy look he'd given the first night Jason saw him speak. When he finished acknowledging the crowd, he stepped down, sitting down beside his lover with an excited smile. 

"What did you think?" he asked, holding Jason's hand over the table. "I was reading "Lady Lazarus" to Calypso, and she asked me about Lazarus, so I started explaining it, and she said I was kind of like that, so I found a pen and started writing. And Caly was proof reading- don't tell Racheal that part-, and she told me you'd love it. I didn't even tell her it was for you, she just _got_ it. I swear, she's going to be an English major." 

Jason laughed, squeezing Nico's hand. "Well, she's not wrong, I do love it," he said, kissing his boyfriend on the nose. The poet laughed, batting Jason's hands. "And I think you're going to turn her into a poet. She'll be just like Selena." 

"I'll start buying tissues now I guess," Nico joked. Which was a big improvement from the time a year ago that someone made a comment about Selena and Nico broke the glass he'd been holding and started tearing up. _di Angelo's don't handle sadness well,_ he'd told Jason when he'd finished wrapping up his hand. _We become alcoholics and read poems to strangers._

"Wanna go home?" Jason asked, holding his boyfriend's hands the way one would hold fragile glass figures. Nico smiled up at him, standing on the cutting edge of adorable and sultry with his scrunched up nose and heated gaze. 

"I'd like that, _officer_ ," Nico teased, and with that, they stood up and left the bar. 

It was very high school, Nico and Jason making out on the couch. Nico made Jason feel young more often than not, somewhat because of the age gap, somewhat because for the first time in his life, Jason was dating someone that was spontaneous and involved and _really_ sexy, especially when he wore those deep v-necks that showed off his tattooed collarbones and his scarred arms. Jason was unapologetically obsessed with all things Nico especially when he had a lap full of Nico pressed against his chest, making soft, needy little noises into their kiss. 

"Fuck, you are going to kill me one of these days," Jason sighed when Nico pulled back, running his thumb along Nico's collar and reveling in the shiver. 

"Nope," Nico said, running a hand through Jason's hair. "I still need your ice-water touch." 

Jason laughed, and Nico leaned down to re-lock their lips, slipping his hand in Jason's back pocket to drag him closer. 

Nico made him feel young a lot. Especially when he slips his hand in Jason's pockets, or gets his engagement ring tangled in Jason's hair, or leaves random hickies in obvious locations. It doesn't help that Nico is adventurous and up for anything, or that he looks so damn young with those freckles and the eyeliner. And maybe it was because Nico always tasted sweet, or how he felt so damn small under Jason's hands. 

But then again, Nico had so much more experience in the actual sex department, and it showed in how Nico would effortlessly take control of the situation, how he never hesitated to take control of the situation, the expertise with which he made Jason see stars. His hands were that of crafters, but his creations were like his poetry- sinful. They were hands that held pens like loaded weapons and wove stories when they spoke. And as much as he made fun of the line, Jason couldn't help but think that maybe _The Slam Poet's Manifesto_ got it right when they talked about alchemy. 

"Where's-" 

"Sleepover," Nico supplied before Jason could finish his question, kissing down his lover's neck. "And Racheal is with her cousin for the weekend, so bed, now." 

Jason laughed, but complied, standing up with an armful of Nico di Angelo. The poet made an indignant squeak sound, arms locking around Jason's neck for balance, but couldn't contain this little laugh when Jason spun them around on his way to their bedroom. 

"Hang on spider-monkey!" 

"You did not just quote Twilight, that is _such_ a boner killer." 

"Oh bite me- Ow! Wha-" 

"Just following orders, officer!" Nico giggled, kissing the spot where he bit Jason's shoulder to apologize. In retaliation, Jason opened his arms and dropped Nico, who landed on the bed with another indignant squeak sound. Jason wasted no time in tossing off his shirt and telegraphing with his eyes for Nico to do the same. The poet did so eagerly, removing his shirt like it was poisonous. Jason admired the sight in a way that made Nico blush and look away, until Jason pressed a line of kisses up the side of his throat, calming that burning embarrassment with his 'ice-water' touch. The poet wound his arms around his lover's neck, moving them further up the bed so he was leant against the headboard, trapped their by the warm expanse of Jason's chest. 

"I love you," Jason whispered, the cool steel of Nico's engagement ring pressed to his burning, exposed shoulders. His own rested over his fiancé's back, and if he focused hard enough, he could feel the minute shivers when he moved it lower on the younger males back. 

Nico looks at him, pupils blown with lust, fingers tangled in Jason's hair, lazy smile curling his kiss-plumped lips, and he whispers "I love you," right back to Jason, and they share another kiss, this one slow and drawn out. It says everything they need to say, all _I love you_ and _I need you_ and _touch me_. Sometimes, they'll spend entire nights like this, sharing long, languid kisses and making slow, sweet love. 

But not tonight. Tonight they have this need, the need to occupy the same space, to become one thing, so when they break apart, Nico's hand is in Jason's back pocket and Jason's is on his lover's zipper. 

They make quick work of it, undressing each other with the expertise only time gives a person. Clothes rustle, bottles open, and Nico feels this energy crackle between them as he pushes on Jason's shoulders, adjusting them so that he's under Nico, caged by the poets thighs, and when Nico sinks down, it's with this sudden satisfaction, an unspoken _finally_ hovering between them. Jason's hands find Nico's hips, thumbs rubbing calming circles into the bones as the poet gets his breath back. 

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this," Jason breathes, watching Nico push his fringe back and out of his flushed face. Then, Nico's moving, and Jason loses the ability to form words beyond holy litanies and his lover's name. The poet takes this as a compliment, moving faster and faster. Soon, the room is filled with their panting breaths, swirling together with _jasonnicoharderyesgodohfuckjasonnico_ , a blur of sensations as Jason matches Nico with every thrust, every cant of hips until they're both white-hot nerve endings, all sensation and lust and motion, and it all comes to a roaring climax, a crescendo of heat, and they finish together, hands locked together like steel cages. 

Nico is good at many things, and one of them is making Jason see stars. 

Later, Nico is curled into Jason's side, happy and sated, when he suddenly sits up, grabbing a pen from under his pillow and scrawling out something onto his arm. Jason absently reads, noting the dirty verses already starting to take form. "You can't write a new poem every time we have good sex," he scolds lazily. Nico scoffs. 

"I take your theory and raise you my entire writing career," he replies with a cheeky smirk, capping his pen and burrowing back into Jason's warm chest. "Besides, our sex life totally deserves a Pulitzer, so deal with it." 

"Love you too, babe." 

And with that, the couple fade to sleep, their even breathes the tempo of a new kind of love poem. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and putting up with my batshit, I know it's been hectic recently. I'm going to take a break and then start writing my next story, which, by popular demand, will be Ethan/Nico. This epilogue came out just in time for the American release date of BoO, so if you have a copy, may gods rest your weary soul. Anyway, thanks for the love, I'll be back soon with my next piece, so until then, all my love! <3


End file.
